Threading thoughts

'The best art always returns you to yourself.'

2009-11-12T13:46:00.003Z

This is a sentence which got me thinking. Stated in the Guardian newspaper by a critic whose articles I nearly always find thought-provoking: Adrian Searle. I agree with him in that I believe the most powerful art which I encounter always makes me ask profound questions - and the best niggle away at me forever after in one way or another.

I found the whole article was a bowlful of fruit to savour, and certainly the parting shot spoke directly to me: Doubt is difficult. Complications and contingencies mess with your head. They might not help you out of a crisis but they are all we have.

Ah, that affirmation of my love of enigma. As Searle says: Keep dancing !

Autumn views

2009-11-06T13:50:00.004Z

The view out of my mother's kitchen window is over the wetland. Early in the morning is a good time to watch the wildlife. The deer have come back unfortunately, and have nibbled all my mother's roses. They do look lovely though: there were two the other day. The ducks seem happy splashing around in the water of next door's pond. The mallards are all in the wetland, and the village pond is now left to the white Aylesbury ducks.

The photos are of mosaics I saw in the Byzantine museum in Salonica.

Thought process

2009-11-03T09:17:00.003Z

Design in process

I've been thinking a lot about thought processes these days as I try to untangle what my mother is attempting to say, and also how she proceeds through tasks. Underlying this is a realisation that she does not take any responsibility for her own improvement. This is not a new thing - 'twas ever thus.

This latter dawning brought me to a fleeting ponder over breakfast about the timing of the philosophy of Existentialism. Was it that my parents' generation was the last which could believe that life happened to them, and the next generation then determined to try to take responsibility for their own progress? Only to lapse back into a belief in the present generation that a good life should happen to all?

Unfortunately that's about as much thought as I can cope with at a time.

Magic box

2009-10-27T17:38:00.006Z

design in progress

I'm lucky that my mother goes to bed to sleep in the late afternoon at present, and so I am free for the evening. There is not much space left in my brain for anything much by that point, however, so I really appreciate this wondrous portal which is the computer.

I lurk around a few blogs - it's like having a pile of new magazines come through the door - and before I know it my interest is perked. I see something which sets dormant ideas a-shifting, and I even begin thinking about designs. Of course because the magic box already provides tools and studio for me I can get down to work straightway. No setting up, no clearing away. Whether I produce anything worthwhile, however, is something I'll have to wait and see. But 'twas ever thus.

A loss can become a gain

2009-10-25T12:03:00.002Z

Nancy Spero has died. Her obituary was in Friday's Guardian newspaper. Adrian Searle, one of the art critics on the Guardian also wrote this article. He knew Spero and her artist husband Leon Golub, and there is an interesting podcast review of her retrospective in Madrid last year: Let the Priests Tremble.

I had heard of Nancy Spero, but it was not until I saw her joint exhibition with Kiki Smith some years ago that I started finding out about her and her work. And since then she often comes to mind. It can be a jolt to hear that the life force of an artist is gone, and that she will not produce any more work - and yet, this very news can act as a catalyst to making a deeper study of that work to make sure that it continues to live.

A delight a day keeps despair at bay

2009-10-22T17:19:00.004+01:00

At present I am living in negative time. Rather like negative space, I'm defining negative time as that which is between the chunks of my overwhelming daily preoccupations. The internet comes into its own here, because I can shoot off into the delights of the ether for a quick visit and for some positive input to spark up the shrivelling brain cells.

Where do impulses come from? Wherever it was, I was minded to google an artist who was a great personal influence on me. When I was living in New England in the early 80s I had a lot of time on my hands, and one activity I took up was friendship of the Currier in Manchester NH. One outing was to visit the studios of artists studying at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts School of Art as an event to accompany an exhibition of their work at the Currier.

An artist had been assigned to guide us round, and she was taking us up in a cranky lift when it stuck. One of the visitors panicked, and essentially the artist and I formed a friendly bond in dealing with the problem. After everyone else had gone I went to have coffee with her: Jinx Nolan.

Originally from Australia, Jinx came to studying art later in life, and this together with a much enjoyed conversation filled me with hope and enthusiasm. I nourished those encouragements which stayed with me through my subsequently resumed publishing career, and they shone through to the other side.

So, it was tremendous delight that this googling at last produced fruit: images of Jinx's work from a recent exhibition in Boston. These have reminded me of the work I so enjoyed seeing all those years ago, and have stimulated me to return, even if only in sketchy thought, to ideas which were bubbling up in my mind earlier this year.

Updates

2009-10-20T18:00:00.004+01:00

This year I seem to have been particularly productive, and so I decided to update my website and its design. I've been encouraged by seeing others selling online to add that facility too.

I have also contributed a new post to the Ragged Cloth Cafe on my current reading: Eva Hesse Studiowork.

In another place

2009-10-18T11:51:00.005+01:00

Yesterday I should have been on a flight to Frankfurt - not to the Book Fair as would have been true at this time in October every year when I was in publishing - but to catch the train to Heidelberg (a place where I fancied studying philosophy in the late 60s - and some folks might remember a film called Girl on a motorcycle.) No, the reason for my visit to Heidelberg this month was to attend today's opening of the 4th European Quilt Triennial at the Max Berk Collection of the Kurpfalzisches Museum in nearby Ziegelhausen. I was amazed and delighted to have been awarded the prize for innovation in quilting by this year's judges.

The text below is from the invitation:
47 quilts from 16 nations, along with three works by jurors, offer
a representative overview of the European quilt scene. This year,
the Betty Barclay group of companies introduced the Doris Winter
Memorial Award with prize money of € 5,000. The jury awarded
this to Mirjam Pet-Jacobs from the Netherlands for her video installation.
This medium has thus now found its way into the area of
textile art. The prize for innovation in a large format with prize
money of € 1,000 was awarded to Mariana Frühauf from Italy for
a three-dimensional work over 3 metres in height, resembling
stripped tree bark. The prize for innovation in quilting with prize
money of € 1,000 was awarded to Olga Norris from England for an
impressive work whose message is reinforced by hand quilting.
Many of the works in the exhibition deal with nature and man’s
environment in the wider sense. But there are also works reflecting
current crises and personal subjects or socially relevant topics.
There are very few quilts devoted entirely to formal and creative
aspects, and they perfectly complement the other works.
The artists’ search for new materials and techniques is noticeable,
but there is very little real innovation. After 25 years of
constant development, the quilt scene has reached a very high
standard and it is difficult to find ways of breaking into new territory.
The award-winning video installation of Mirjam Pet-Jacobs
is an example of one of these ways.

Unfortunately, because my mother needs constant care and circumstances at present mean that I am the only one able to provide that, I have had to cancel my flights, and reign in my curiosity about the other work in the exhibition. I am particularly intrigued by mention of Mirjam Pet-Jacobs' video installation*, but I would have liked to see the whole show, as well as meeting other makers attending the opening. The irony is that the subject of my piece is an expression of my difficult relationship with my mother - the full title of this being The yellow room: resignation.

The contents of the exhibition will be on display at the Festival of Quilts 2010 in Birmingham UK in August next, so I definitely hope to catch it there. Otherwise, I look forward to receiving photographs promised by the organisers. And of course there is the catalogue. But my thoughts right now are there in Heidelberg - Ziegelhausen, where they are milling about, chatting, nibbling, and looking at it all. I wonder, what is the obverse of Schadenfreude ...?

* I have now tracked down a copy of this fascinating work Timeless in time here. I love the idea of the song, the layers of sound including a sewing machine, ? washing, and the layers of images building up the time it takes to make a quilt. It's brilliant.

Return

2009-10-13T09:54:00.007+01:00

Home again, home again, back from a city which used to be one of my homes until 40 years ago.

I have returned with my mother after her stroke. She is not too bad physically with just a little weakness on the right side. However her mind is somewhat scrambled - which is incredibly frustrating for her. We shall be working hard to unravel and reconnect the threads.

It looks as if this might well have been my last visit to Thessaloniki, so while I had folks looking after my mother I paid a quick visit to a couple of museums.

This is part of the Byzantine Museum building which has a splendid collection as well as being an attractive structure. I was the sole visitor on the morning I went, and enjoyed a quiet stroll round, stopping for as long as I wanted wherever I wanted. It was possible to take photos, but without a flash - and it was so dim that most are suitable simply as a reminder.

The weather was glorious with the temperatures fit for summer. The Archaeological Museum now has opened its outdoor space which contains many sarcophagi and the layout of a local Roman house, with remains of actual mosaic floors from the vicinity. The painting at the top of this post is a reproduction from an interior.

Thessaloniki is not much mentioned in brochures about the beauty of Greece. It is a treasure house of byzantine art, with Roman remains too, as well as the splendours of finds from tombs at Vergina. I wish that more visitors sought out these rewards, but they should lower their eyes in between those beauties. There is a painful contrast visually between the splendours within the museums, the beauties of the many churches in Thessaloniki, and the cacophonous ugliness of the city itself. Concrete blocks, too close, hiding the churches, with in-your-face advertising, opportunistic strip development with no care for urban planning, cars everywhere, parked on pavements, illegal buildings, ... all have obliterated the attractive hillside sweep of city curved round its harbour that was such an important staging post since ancient times. The photo above is of most folks' view from their balcony.

I suppose that as with all the contents of the museums, it's the rich who live the beautiful life, and the poor who get the ugly end of life's baton. No amount of civilisation seems to have changed that.

Pause

2009-09-27T14:10:00.003+01:00

My thoughts have been rather scattered recently, and so not suitable for threading. I took my mother to stay with relatives in Thessaloniki, Greece, on 16 September, me leaving a couple of days later, hoping that she would become revitalised over the next seven weeks. Unfortunately the night of the day I left she had a stroke, and life has been rather disjointed since.

The stroke is mild, and she should make a complete recovery. She is now out of hospital and is well looked after, and I'm off to spend a week or so with her before bringing her back.

The Fates have a habit of throwing little spanners around when they get bored! I suppose I tempted them by packing October with a mass of interesting activities which will now melt away.

So, I shall not be blogging for a wee while - unfortunately I shall not have access to the internet at all when I'm away. The above picture will be my evening view.

Café alert

2009-09-21T15:13:00.002+01:00

I've put a short new post on the Ragged Cloth Café site.

I do like squared paper

2009-09-14T18:47:00.001+01:00

Intriguing

2009-09-09T09:51:00.003+01:00

It was because I wanted to go to Stockholm in 2007 to see the Rauschenberg Combines exhibition that I first encountered William Kentridge. He was having an exhibition at the Moderna Museet at the same time. I never got to Stockholm, but I consoled myself with the excellent Rauschenberg catalogue - and as I (too) frequently do I bought the Kentridge one as well. Again, as too frequently happens, I was distracted by other shiny subjects, and put this latter to one side.

Until this year's Edinburgh Festival - again not attended by me, but reviews consumed avidly. Montiverdi's Return of Ulysses was performed with puppets - an intriguing idea which caught my attention not least because I'm interested in puppets and in the story of Ulysses. William Kentridge being involved also grabbed my complete attention, and I remembered the Black Box book.

How often it is that I buy a book for whatever reason, and it sits there waiting, ... waiting for not only a good moment but a better moment. Somehow I seem to be readier now to appreciate the work, and indeed it has (I think subliminally - certainly not deliberately) had an effect on one of my recent designs (still in progress, as seen at the top of this post). The strange coincidence is that not until I started writing this post did I find that WK had had an exhibition in Paris (fifth exhibition down in the list of pictures on the right in this link) which involved delightful images with birds.

My design comes from my month's stay in Paris in 2007, with input from all previous visits and my love of the place also derived from study and reading over the years since childhood. All of this together with my present emotional state - as ever. And now this design is on the back burner, joining others in that limbo which might not lead to anything other than to provide me with a bit of therapy.

Meantime I am very much enjoying reading The Black Box / Chambre Noir, and look forward to exploring the works of William Kentridge further.

September

2009-09-01T17:41:00.007+01:00

Now with September here and the brash annuals gradually being consigned to the compost heap and their pots tidied away, the grasses are blooming: bringing their subtle, distinctive palette - less orderly and with more movement in their form. I love the untidiness of Autumn.

An interesting book, and further thoughts on my FoQ piece

2009-08-31T08:38:00.008+01:00

On Friday a friend and I indulged in a coffee and cake at Polly's in order to exchange books and magazines, and discuss our impressions of the Festival of Quilts the previous week. In this exchange I acquired on loan a copy of Contemporary Quilt Art by Kathleen Lenkowsky, which I am enjoying a great deal. (It has also arrived at just the right moment for curling up with a book - it really looks like the beginning of Autumn chills out there!)

It is well written and has three sections: Part one describes the history of the development of studio quilts. Part two consists of a detailed look at each of several studio quilt makers, and part three covers topics such as how to collect quilts, and how to look after them. I am part way through the second section so far - reading steadily and with great interest.

One of the reasons why I enjoy reading about artists, and especially in their own words is that so often it can clarify feelings of my own which have not yet been defined or articulated within my own understanding. Such a case occurred when I was reading about Elizabeth Busch.

First the assertion which chimed directly with my own intention: "My quilts are about me ...." which is in many ways true of everyone; but she goes on to say:

"How I choose to make a quilt has more to do with where I am when the 'call to work' arises. I respond to whatever that is, not knowing why, and not having a clue what the result will be. For example, the pieces on my studio wall now make absolutely no sense ... for whatever reason, several days this past week 'I needed to paint.' I did. Now I look, move pieces around with others I have pulled out. It's like a jigsaw puzzle without a picture to follow. Will it come together this time? Will I ever understand what this work is about? Today, I still don't, but I usually learn after the fact. Then it always makes sense!" Busch speaks of her work as leading her rather than the reverse.

It's a kind of strange relief to know that accomplished established artists find natural those aspects of working which can cause doubt, or at least pauses for question in people such as myself who are still finding their way. It is so lucky that I have been able to borrow and read this excellent book just at the point when the recent Festival of Quilts has set me thinking about the medium as a whole.

I apologise to my quilt neighbours in this photograph for cutting them off, but there was such a crush that I was only able to snatch a snap over folks' heads. My friend had collected my miniature at the end of the Festival of Quilts, and when we met I was able to read the judges' comments on my work.

1. gave me 3 Good, 6 Satisfactory, and 1 Not applicable (it is not pieced).

2. gave me 5 Excellent, 4 Good, and 1 Not applicable.

3. gave me 1 Excellent (hangs well), 8 Good, 1 Satisfactory.

The comments were:

1. Use of the human figure always provokes an emotional response.

2. Innovative and inspiring.

3. Partial quilting enhances the design (I'm not sure what the partial meant).

So, it could very well be said that I was too harsh on myself. However, I did find that, as with all the other competition quilts in all categories, that it is inevitably a lottery how well the look of one's piece stands up in close proximity with such variety of differences. In the miniature category this is exaggerated because everyone is so close, and my work did no favours to its neighbours.

But this is inevitable in a mixed show, and especially in such a large competition as this, and I am delighted with the positive response that my Golden glow received from the judges.

Appreciating the craft

2009-08-23T17:37:00.007+01:00

My visit to the Festival of quilts on Friday started with a look at my contribution to the miniatures, and I felt immediately that it was totally inappropriate. I blushed for the poor little thing hanging amongst such finely crafted companions. I took a quick snap over folks' heads and scuttled off. So often I talk of the art in various textile pieces, and read of strivings for artistic merit or achievement in the blogs I cruise - but for once I started to look seriously for quality of craftsmanship. And although there was a deal of distracting mediocrity (including my own offering) I did find much to please.

First was the stand devoted to Jenny Bowker's work. I have popped over to her blog now and then, and have enjoyed her writing, her photographs, and been intrigued by her work. In real life, and larger than life her quilts sing. With the splendid artisans she pictures she has indeed captured a lively sense of them as real people with skills worth celebrating. She honours them with her own craftsmanship. Her quilts are joyous pieces of work, and I was so pleased to have had the opportunity to see them in detail.

Then I went to see a favourite textile artist: Pauline Burbidge. She combines art with craft, but the latter is by no means a secondary consideration. Her Quiltline series may be less intensely art-driven, but they are perfected with the rigor of a devoted technician. I was interested to hear her talk about her inspirations, and was fascinated by the discipline of her limited stitch dimensions on the machine with which she makes the Quiltline pieces.

From Pauline Burbidge's stand I almost staggered into Ingrid Press's display. Here was a kind of calm serenity where an incredible controlled and experienced manipulation of fabric produced a meditative result. Meditation of the hand leading to an elegant yet powerful simplicity: meditation for the mind. (I apologise for the terrible photographs, but I am but a snapper.)

Another stand of beautifully crafted quilts was that of Yoshiko Jinzenji, and this is a view of her stand below. These are stunning decorative pieces of craft, and I was grateful to my own sense of embarassment that it made me seek out not art but craft this year, because really, it made the visit much more rewarding. So often a beautifully made and presented piece of work, a delight to the eye can provide satisfaction to the senses - and yet if one then goes on to ask 'but is it art?' all that pleasure can evaporate if the answer is 'no'. Discrimination is such an underrated skill.

I came to the world of quilts and textiles in general from the direction of wanting to express myself artistically. I use the techniques of the excellent craftspeople who work in these fields, but have not a jot of their skill. I am learning. I am practising. I am in awe of their abilities and doff my hat.

Café

2009-08-20T13:48:00.002+01:00

Just to let you know - I've put a new post up in the Ragged Cloth Café.

One small corner

2009-08-19T16:38:00.006+01:00

It was thanks to Mags Ramsey's blog that we did not miss the RA Summer exhibition. We went on Sunday, the very last day. For our taste it seems to be getting better year on year with much to attract the eye and the imagination, but I was beginning to think that there only really one piece which blew me away, until I got to gallery IV - mostly sculpture. It was the glorious Gormley on the wall in front of me which drew my attention first in the room which would turn out not only to be my favourite, but in which I found again and again a profound feeling of depth in simplicity.

Anthony Gormley's sculpture can look confused initially, but like most of his work, once the figure is discerned all falls into place and it takes on a meditative quality. And unusually for the Summer Exhibition this was true of its companions especially in one corner stretching from Gormley's Quantum Void VI (above) to Beate Gutschow's photographs (S#2 shown below).

The pieces between them included John Carter's Four identical shapes - a quiet but increasingly satisfying piece I cannot find reproduced, but it was again a wall mounted sculpture in minimal form rather like the ones shown here. Another sculpture - or drawing by sculptor Cornelia Parker was breathtakingly simple and beautiful: Bullet drawing. It is the lead of a bullet drawn out to form a grid, then set in a frame. It's voice was soft but its message deep.

David Nash's two vertical pieces of apparently simply sliced wood, like the example above, were also wall hung. Straightforwardly named Cuts up, cuts down they too spoke with an elegant understatement that for me rendered most of the rest of the exhibition rather vulgar and emptily loud in comparison.

The best of all, however - the most inspiring, the work which had me itching to think more, produce better, stretch further was that of Ian McKeever. Three of his Assembly gouaches were there and are sublime - just, well, sublime. They were predominantly black and white, a limited palette like so much of this outstanding corner.

Despite the visual indigestion which I always get by the end of the Summer Exhibition, this collection of simple and profoundly eloquent pieces still sings clearly in my memory along with one other which I had seen in the first gallery of the show: Anselm Kiefer's Triptique. This is a magnificent huge conjunction of three metal box frames containing painting and branches and sculpture. It works on so many levels visually, sensually, and evoking thoughts both of death and regeneration. And even works on the level of transporting the viewer to the fairytale forest: seductive, dangerous, but possibly redemptive.

I'm afraid that almost everything else paled considerably in comparison. We enjoyed seeing the work of favourite artists, but nothing had the sheer power of the Kiefer, Gormley, Nash, Gutschow, Parker, and McKeever for me. The Summer Exhibition does not normally deliver such a powerfully multiple punch. What luck that Mags' post reminded me before we missed out on being knocked out.

Give and take

2009-08-14T10:49:00.010+01:00

Some pieces of work arrive in my consciousness fully formed in their constituent designs. All I have to do is to visualise clearly, then execute them practically. Most, however, go through that initial gathering and sifting process in a more conscious state - more instinctive to begin with, gradually including an increasing balance between problem-solving deliberation and instinct.

In the late 1990s I was part of a makers' group who had an exhibition in Winchester cathedral, and during my duty hours early in the morning before there were any visitors I would take photographs of the floor. There are beautiful tiles, and also attractive lettering on grave stones.

Later, when learning to make silk screens, I used those photographed cut letters as subject matter. This developed into a very early piece using the running stitch which is now part of my basic vocabulary, but otherwise the trial pulls on paper were put in a makeshift cardboard portfolio which had the word rubbish scrawled over it in a previous use. I joked that that seemed perfectly appropriate for the stuff I was producing.

I went through that portfolio relatively recently on one of my clear outs, and was pleasantly surprised. Indeed this image set a bell tinkling.

This photograph was taken a few years ago in a splendid garden called Knoll, known for its grasses. I loved the layers of feathery fennel against the spiky stems and leaves of the hemerocallis (daylily) and the bold flowerheads of the knifophia (red hot poker). When I took the photo the daylily flowers were a bonus rather than the primary focus.

These drawings are two from a file where I keep scribbles of bodies which I draw from my imagination, copy from my little blind drawing sketchbook, or draw based on photographs which have attracted me. I like these last to provide enigmatic gestures which I can later use to illustrate some emotional instant, but which can still be open to a wider interpretation. I love using hands as a focal point, and these are two in that category.

The first thing I did in the making of this piece was to put the two drawings together as if the individuals were in conversation - as shown in the image at the top of this post. It was obvious straight away that they needed to be very close, and I wanted to put them in a verdant context.

The Knoll photograph provided me with the ambiguous mix of soft and hard, and suddenly I knew that the daylily flower not only gave them something to do with those expressive hands - but also added a possible meaning or symbolism to the tableau. The lily which only flowers for a day. I was pleased thus far.

I knew that it had to be A3 in size, and so I printed it onto the appropriate transfer paper - and there it stayed. I had intended to cut the white away to an off-white paper, but something would not let me proceed with even transferring the image onto cloth. I would take it out of my limbo drawer from time to time, admire it, not know how best to proceed, sigh, and return it ... until earlier this summer when I had my clear out.

I realised as soon as I saw the silk screened lettering that this was right for the two patiently waiting figures. What they needed was their own internal visual power. Otherwise they were simply empty bodies playing second fiddle to the potential potency of the daylily. I had wanted a much more dramatic situation, and these unknown but significant looking markings could provide it.

As I was stitching the cloth and paper sandwich, it was also obvious that I needed to crop the image to enhance the drama. So now I am very happy with Give and take, which has been over ten years in the making!

Treehugging tendencies

2009-08-11T11:14:00.012+01:00

I have been sorting and filing this morning as well as seeking suitable photos as backgrounds for a design, and felt like doing a bit of tree admiration.

Further down the line (the working pictures)

2009-08-07T08:14:00.005+01:00

Apologies for my lack of dexterity with Blogger. The post really does not fully inform without the readable view of these pix. It is amazing how quickly we expect the computer software to read our minds and do everything we want - then we resent the time it takes to sort out any 'failings'.

Further down the line

2009-08-04T09:48:00.012+01:00

I hate to leave this exhibition on a negative note, because in truth there is a great wealth of interest and beauty in the works on display. And the individual artists deserve the attention. My friend and I have been following the work of many of these artists for a deal of time, and it is fascinating to follow their progress. The artist new to me at this exhibition is Joanna Kinnersly-Taylor. The illustration of her work in the catalogue unfortunately shows only a small detail. There is no indication of measurement anywhere, and so I will guess (and I'm really not good at estimating size) at about 150cm wide and over 2m tall. It is I think a screen printed banner, and I found it to be a stunning abstraction of glimpsed-at elements to do with writing and posting letters. The colours too relate to this with the off-whites and blues associated with airmail. It is simple, elegant, and has a voice totally its own. This link shows images of her large work in context.

Emily Jo Gibbs' work is relatively new to me. I encountered it this summer in a group exhibition entitled A wearable art in Woodstock, Oxfordshire. I wrote a review for Workshop on the Web, from which this is a quote: Emily Jo Gibbs, like so many of the artists in this show is inspired by natural forms. She also includes Russian dolls and the seaside bucket as springboards for her quirky ideas. Her bag and bowl forms mix textile and metal with a delicacy of touch and an exquisite whimsy. That exhibition had within it a few areas layed out to give sensation of being in an artist’s studio. One such area was devoted to Emily Jo Gibbs, and I was entranced by her work - mostly impressed with her ability to distill the simple essence of a feeling.

The page with the illustration of her work entitled A sketch: Jam Jar and Twigs is at the top of my previous post. The precious beauty of an everyday jam jar containing twigs is quietly endorsed by the simple placement of two grasses made of silver on the other 'page' of the fabric exercise book. I was moved by this piece. Muted colours are not generally what I think of when recalling the work of Fiona Rutherford. She is someone whose work I have admired for a few years now. There were two pieces of hers in the Bending the line show. One in very much what I think of as her style: Having a blast. The other, Resolution, was one of the works in the exhibition which took the poetry of Tennyson as the inspirational line to bend, so to speak. (This year is the 200th anniversary of Tennyson's birth in the county of Lincolnshire, where this exhibition is taking place.)

I love the zing of Rutherford's work, but was much taken with Resolution which can be seen in full by clicking on the very last thumbnail on her gallery page (click on her name link above). This also goes to show how dreadful the catalogue image is! The work seemed to be looking back without being anything other than contemporary, and so it was a joy not only in its pleasure-giving design, but also in contemplating the skill of the designer.

Maggie Henton is an artist whose work I have travelled far to see. Over the years I drove with my husband up to north Wales (suffering a minor car accident) to the excellent Ruthin Gallery in order to see an exhibition of contemporary basket makers in which Maggie Henton played a significant part. We again made a detour to the Tulliehouse gallery in Carlisle on our way up to Scotland in order to see her work in a mixed show of sculptural textiles. A friend and I drove to her solo show Passages at the then newly refurbished Russell Cotes Gallery on the south coast, and before this current exhibition my duodidactic friend and I had made the expedition over to Hove to the previous 62group show mentioned in my previous post.

When I was still publishing I used to have postcards of Maggie Henton's more conventional but beautiful basket forms up on my office wall. The best image to illustrate this early work is in this catalogue from Browngrotta. The bottom half of the constructed image on the cover of the catalogue is Maggie Henton, as is the double page spread illustrated.

I was bowled over by her move to a much more sturdily sculptural form when I saw new work at Ruthin, and Passages reinforced that delight in me. I was lucky enough to take part in a discussion group which she (with another textile artist whose work I admire: Polly Binns) was leading, and she talked about her experiences in Australia, which has inspired another shift in her work.

The spare, limited palette, geometric yet natural stitched pieces on show in Hove were irresistible to my duodidactic friend. She bought one, and I have the great pleasure of being able to see it each time I visit her. The pieces in Hove were in mid to dark greys; those in the current exhibition are at the chalky end of that palette.

The other artist I have had great pleasure in meeting and talking with a few times is Caroline Bartlett. Again, I have followed her work's development over many years and interesting exhibitions. It was her printed pleated cotton and linen pieces which I fell in love with first. Then that form, hung horizontally, and round a corner, made with starch and stitch resist, printed and hand stitched was another which has stayed in my memory. (These are all illustrated under Commissions and other work in the link above.)

Caroline Bartlett's work moved on to make contemporary comments on collections of museums such as the V&A, the Whitworth, like the shoe collection at Bankfield. I am drawn to these pieces as museum pieces in themselves, a more intellectual attraction than a love for the form itself.

But, at the Bending the line exhibition I was drawn wholly towards Bartlett's exhibit. I have now forgotten whether there were four or five hanging squares. The fabric (which I wanted to feel) looked very like the cream army surplus blankets my husband and I bought when we were first married: soft but firm. On this fabric was printed a kind of outline - broken, perhaps some kind of computer mapping, different in each piece - some intense, some sparse. And there was stitching, filling in, marking - intriguing. Delightfully comforting yet unsettling at the same time. The detail in the catalogue implies a densely covered fabric, but this is far from so. This area is one small part of the whole where the open cream areas untouched by print or stitch contrast with the intensity of the marks.

This exhibition has a great deal to offer. My disappointment is a personal response, which stems from not only my own expectations, but those set up by the professional aims of the exhibiting group itself. Individual artists, nonetheless, have given me more than enough reward for making the expedition to see their work.

Bent to breaking

2009-08-01T13:02:00.006+01:00

Bending the line catalogue, page 19

My duodidactic friend and I set off cross country last week on an expedition to see the current 62 group exhibition Bending the line at the Hub Design Centre in Sleaford, Lincolnshire, England. We meet every five weeks or so, and thus always have a great deal to catch up on. Journeys together contain never a dull moment. We have been going to the 62 group exhibitions for many years now, and enjoy discussing progress in the work of our favourite artists, and talking long after about the challenges their work often throws down to us.

We were very pleased to have made the effort to drive the distance to see the current show, and as ever there was a great deal to take in and to continue thinking about afterwards. But we were both disappointed by the show itself.

I'm still trying to sort out all the reasons for my own disappointment. One reason was physical: the lighting was of a particularly dim variety which impedes reading of labels and seeing colours well. On top of that the all-pervasive hum induced a sick headache. But those are the kinds of irritations which are brushed aside when the work is compelling, absorbing, thought-provoking, attractive, inspiring, ....

I liked several pieces, but was particularly taken with pieces by four artists: Joanna Kinnersly-Taylor whose large printed cloth was stunning. Caroline Bartlett's mix of digital printing and hand stitching fascinated me, and Marilyn Rathbone's braids - Six Degrees of Separation. I found Emily Jo Gibbs' still life delightful - it is illustrated above. There was a lot of really high quality textile art on show, and my disappointment is very personal because I always seek out such work, and therefore expect perhaps more than I should.

For instance I love the work that Maggie Henton had on display. Her stitched circles within squares are sublime, but they were simply a different colouring group of the ones we had seen in the previous show in Hove. Indeed these at the Hub were dated 2006.

We have too few high quality textile exhibitions - or displays of textile-based art in this country, and I approve of the showing of stunning work like that of Henton as widely as possible. I should be happy that such excellent work is there to illustrate the breadth of what is being done.

My real criticism however is saved for the catalogue. This group is the UK's premier collection of top flight textile artists. They trumpet the fact that their selection process is rigorous, and as Audrey Walker, their current Chair has said '- our exhibition members must be active, practising artists. Also they must be willing to submit their work to selection panels of their peers for every exhibition. As members, we are also required to accept the possibility that, if we fail to submit work, or have it rejected for three successive exhibitions, then our membership will be forfeited. These are tough rules, but have meant that we have been able to maintain very high standards over the 50 years.'

These high standards are let down abominably by the lack of quality of their catalogues. (I speak as someone who spent many years commissioning book design.)

This catalogue, which I bought only as an aid to my memory, is barely that. Bad photographs of oddly angled details represent a whole work. Atsuko Yamamoto's full billowing lengths of red on the ground under one stone-coloured length hanging from a bell are given a tiny tricksy photo of an almost indiscernible reflection in the bell, and that's it.

There are very few full views of pieces. Space is wasted in the layout rather than used to enhance accessing the information. The interview of Audrey Walker by Professor Lesley Millar is interesting and definitely worth reading, but that is all to do with the content. This leaflet catalogue is an unfortunate confirmation for those who consider the textile arts and crafts to be inferior to those of the fine arts. The 62 group members who have had publications produced by the excellent Ruthin and Browngrotta galleries should speak up.

The twilight zone

2009-07-23T12:04:00.002+01:00

Bumbling along in life, happily unaware of a particular word, one day there is an encounter. Suddenly that word pops up all around. How could it have remained unseen for so long - or has it become the art critic's mot du jour?

This is how I am feeling about the word liminal. I first encountered it a couple of years ago when a friend told me about a degree show where one artist used the word to describe her philosophy. The art was trying to capture a sense of transition. My friend had never met the word before, and nor had I. I was intrigued by the idea, but left it on a mental shelf.

Last year I saw an exhibition by the sculptor Claire Morgan, and read the accompanying document within which there was an article (by Darren Ambrose on P.6) entitled The sculpture of liminal time.

Included in this article is the sentence: 'Her work presents us with a disturbing liminal point in time where the open flow of natural life has been arrested and closed down into a moment of supended dead time.'

This is not a sentence I like. My editor's blue pencil from my former existence twitches, and my reaction is to believe that the word is one of art academic jargon. At that I gave a critical sniff and pushed the word further back on that mental shelf, retaining only my personal interest in the wondrous work itself.

And yet.

Yesterday, in following a thread I discovered the website of Claire Palfreyman, a ceramicist. I was attracted to her work and intrigued by her description of what inspires it. And there, under the heading Hegemon and the Epheboi, is the sentence: 'According to the anthropologist Victor Turner, a person in the liminal stage is neither a member of the group to which they previously belonged, nor a member of the group they aspire to.'

Here the use pleases me. It is still being used by an academic, but is explained with a particular meaning. I am also drawn to the validity of this meaning within the philosophy of Claire Palfreyman's own work. I must admit that the interest she has in that stage of male adolescence strikes a chord with me, as I too have been intrigued ever since I taught lads many years ago.

So now, with the word reappearing once more in critical writing, but this time finding favour with me, I decided to type it into the Google slot. And I found a website so named which has set my mind wandering off down another interesting path.

Just a note

2009-07-21T11:08:00.003+01:00

to say that today I added a post to Ragged Cloth Café .